everytime i close my eyes
by writing for the braindead
Summary: and there's no remedy for memory; your face is like a melody - it won't leave my head. your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine. but i wish i was dead. — AU {Vanven} Dark themes.


_Title: everytime I close my eyes_

_Author: mellie (starsthatshineinthedarkness)_

_Rating: T_

_Word Count: about 11,000_

_Pairing(s): Vanitas/Ventus_

_Disclaimer: Nothing is mine._

_Summary: and there's no remedy for memory; your face is like a melody - it won't leave my head. your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine. but i wish i was dead._

_Author's Note: Written for Cozzato (Moe) and TheAnnoyingVoice (Heidi). This is basically my baby. Literally, it was so much fun to write; it took around 2-3 days. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did._

* * *

**[0]**

"Beer?" But Vanitas doesn't wait for an answer; he's already throwing one at the blonde.

And its a few hours later and the 24 pack is almost empty, but there's cheap vodka in the freezer for emergency. He's learned well.

There hasn't been much talking, just playing video games while watching some movie on mute. It's a cheap romance movie and Vanitas stares a bit too long and catches Ventus' profile at the corner of his eye and-

"Fuck yes!" Ventus screams because he finally beats Vanitas at Mario Kart.

It's only taken 5 months.

* * *

It's an hour afterward.

And it's Vanitas' idea.

"Give me your wrist," the raven commands.

"Wait, Vanitas - what?"

Vanitas has already gone back to the kitchen and back and scoffs.

Insisting: "Give me your wrist." Vanitas has his long-sleeved shirts' left cuff pulled up, just enough to show his forearm. Curious, drunk Ventus wants to see where this is going, so... He agrees. He lends his wrist to the raven. All of a sudden, there's a sharp pain and when he looks down he sees blood droplets surrounding a mark that looks suspiciously like an infinity sign.

"What the fuck, Vanitas?"

"Shh, be quiet."

Vanitas gives him the knife. Ventus half-shouts: "What am I supposed to do with this?" and Vanitas responds simply: "Do the same." The blonde just stares for a while before lifting his hand up shakily to slowly make the symbol. The raven, using his free hand, guides the younger's trembling hand to make the incision. Once it's done, Vanitas speaks.

"When two people love each other, they want to be with each other for infinity right? Well... I heard of this one ritual where the two lovers drink the blood of each other. Some belief that the blood will stay in the stomach forever."

Vanitas pauses, glancing up at Ventus who just stares for a while before gesturing for Vanitas to continue.

"Then, supposedly, the blood in our stomachs will be forced to kill us if we ever do anything to dishonor each other or break-up or betray one another or whatever."

Vanitas lifts Ventus's bleeding wrist to his lips while Ventus does the same.

_And in that moment, Ventus swears they are forever. Oh, how wrong he was._

* * *

**[0.5]**

"You stood by my side, all these years. And now... And now you're going to leave just like this? How could you? I love you!"

"I'm sorry; goodbye, Ventus."

* * *

"He told me he would be with me forever. I was an idiot for ever thinking that."

"Look, he's not worth you, Ven!"

"He didn't deserve you."

"You're right. He deserved better."

* * *

**[1]**

It's been a year since Vanitas left. One fucking year since he had left him, broke it off, ditched him – whatever you want to call it because he knows what his friends have been saying about it and a lot of it is way more graphic and detailed than that. And for what? Ventus's work.

He's not sure which is worse – forgetting about Vanitas or remembering every moment.

Sometimes when Ventus is working overtime, eyelids untouched from sleep for days and he's a bit delusional and he'll think of something funny and just turn his head to look to tell Vanitas and he'll realize he's not there and then the world will crash down to the ground around him and it takes a few seconds to breathe again before he can feebly return to what he was doing.

He always continues what he's doing. Only because it's the only way he can deal. If he thought about the situation too long… well, he doesn't want to think about what he'd do. Terra and Aqua worry about him, he knows and totally gets that, but it's easier to just not think about Vanitas, until well, he does and then it's so sharp and real and violent that it shakes him. Leaves him a little less for wear. His hands are always a bit shakier, his skin runs clammy. He feels like his stomach is churning fire and it needs escape. But-but there's always more and more work to induce himself in.

He doesn't let the irony shake him.

But it's been a year since Vanitas left with whatever intangible things he took. And Ventus can barely admit to himself that he's not the same. He doesn't like to admit it to anyone, least himself, but there's something missing. It's not so much that there's a hole in him, but he feels smaller. He feels like everything is compressed and he doesn't…

He's been drinking. And frequently. Strange, right? Innocent Ventus doing such a reckless act. It didn't occur to him that it was a problem because it's the only thing that works anymore, to get him away from the screen. A few years ago, Just Vanitas was all he needed. But now, now it takes some chemical reactions. Some cells to lose their membrane and welcome all the blurred lines it can get. The hangovers were always hell, but then he thinks he deserves it a bit and he's always had masochistic tendencies or why else would he be friends with Terra and join in his excessive exercising. But then one morning two months ago he woke up in the lobby of a cheap hotel and Aqua was pissed and tried to provide damage control and paid the staff a few thousand dollars to keep it quiet. So he went to the doctor to keep Aqua happy and they put him on some sort of anti-depressant. The doctor and the bottle were clear about not mixing them with booze and it worked for awhile. Well, for a few weeks. But he's not looking to be stable. He knows there's too much pleasure in being miserable, to poke and prod at a bruise. He knows there's a choice between happiness and torture, but he knows deep down in his bones if he deserves anything at all, then its misery.

Especially today.

He's been drinking since noon. It's four or something now. Aqua, Terra, his assistant... Someone told him not to come in because they know and they get it. But they don't really because if Ventus isn't here working and putting all of his energy into something else, he might just be at home, drinking AND thinking. And now, now he just needs to drink and not think and that's easy to do when he's working. And he's only put a bit of shit vodka in his red bull; he just needed the edge off and to keep the stupor close and rippling, but not forcefully roaring over him.

And then, he sees some fucking intern with a tattoo of some kind on her finger. It becomes clear: an infinity tattoo. His hands start shaking, but he keeps calm and dives back into work. He tries not to let little things bother him; that's just inefficient. But ever since the stupid breakup and that one night when they were still in high school... well, the stupid sideways '8' has been a sore reminder of what he's lost. Terra and Aqua know this, don't know why, but he's had a few outbursts before, whenever he sees one. His can't even hide the shaking and Aqua comes in and tries to calm him down. There's fire in his blood or something of the sort. He pushes her away and decides he needs to just be somewhere else, fresh air or water on his face or something. Terra gives him these eyes of pity and he just can't fucking take it, so he walks faster. But he's hallucinating now, because now he's seeing it EVERYWHERE. It's ridiculous and stupid and he thinks God's punishing him.

Fuck that, he knows it.

Ventus can't see anything anymore. His vision has blurred and everything is spinning a bit and he's cold and hot and he thinks he's going to vomit fire. It was so long ago, but it meant something. And he's always wondered when Vanitas's blood will become active in his stomach and spread his death like flowers blossoming, subtle and beautiful. He's been waiting.

It's come.

He thinks about going on a firing rampage, and making everyone leave and get out of his fucking sight. But he's dangerously thinking calmly right now and he knows Aqua would have to PR the shit out of it and it just wouldn't be worth it. He stumbles towards the closest person he sees and slurs: "I'm leaving and when I get back, I want all of this shit out of here, okay?" His words seem over enunciated and spread out and separated.

But that's that. Anticlimactic and he's still shaking and he needs to get out of this fucking office so he can just breathe. But once he's out of the building, his knees give and he's holding onto a brick wall and emptying out pure bile and booze. But he wipes his mouth roughly - he's the goddamn CEO of his company - the taste is stale and his throat is raw, and the double whiskey he ordered will aggravate it but he's more than okay with that right now.

* * *

**[2]**

He would say that he can't feel anything, but that's a goddamn lie. That's what people say but it doesn't make any sense. His body is heavy and everything is pulsing and throbbing and he doesn't know where he's at and he hears beeping and beeping and it's chewing at his brain and he just wants to vomit again and maybe just die. He feels another deep pulse of pain radiate from his innards out. Yeah, death sounds good about now.

He still hasn't opened his eyelids but everything's bright, he can tell that. And smells sterile.

And suddenly, he doesn't know if he was dreaming before or hallucinating, but now he sees Vanitas. There's nothing specific about the background, it's dark and cold and he thinks he can see his breath. Vanitas looks tall as he's standing next to him, looking down with his face tight and angry. Ventus thinks he's lying down but he can't really tell. Everything is still jumbled and tight.

"You're pathetic," Ventus can hear Vanitas' voice, but he can't see his lips moving. "You're pathetic and you deserve this."

There is a sharp pain in his chest and his breathing feels labored and then he doesn't remember anything again until hours or minutes or days and all there is blackness until there isn't anymore and there's another voice. It's male and he feels as if he should know this, but he can't.

"...much longer until..." is all he hears, the throbbing in his body going straight to his ears so the voice is covered by the sound of blood pumping hot and forceful and irregular.

It goes in and out (mostly out) for weeks, it seems. Well, he has no sense of time. No sense of anything really. He's still not exactly sure where he's at or what's happened and why his body feels like he was put into a blender or that his limbs aren't bending, but all he gets is little bits of consciousness. He feels safe, he guesses, and mostly warm, but sometimes cold. And sort of comfortable, he guesses, for the pain he's in and the lucidity of his thoughts. He can hear voices he knows and remembers and he can feel a hand on his or whatever. But that's about it. The rest of time is blackness and then dreams or nightmares. Normally about Vanitas, normally vivid and sometimes violent and once Vanitas was actually a giant blue doll that kept chasing Ventus and the pain wracking his body was so real. And it hurts when he hears these things and they just echo and echo and echo. He still feels small and pushed down too much, whatever that means.

* * *

Everything's foggy and dull and blurry, but he can point out specific features this time as he opens his eyes. He can see glasses and white clothes and black hair and... Is that a stethoscope?

"Oh good, you're awake," he hears and tries to process. Things are becoming more vivid and bright under these unflattering lights. He looks down and sees his pale arm connected to tubes and one arm in a cast. It's heavy and he can't move it; he's already tried. He doesn't understand.

"I don't-What? ...Where am...," his voice was suppose to be steady, but it's a bit static and it cracks at the end.

There's the fucking beeping again and Ventus is trying to focus on it because his world is starting to shift again.

"You're in the hospital, Mr. Dennings." The words come out slowly and there's a bit of an accent. He looks like someone Ventus knew from a past life. As he tries to place it, he realizes that the doctor's still speaking. "- involved in an accident and have been in a coma for two weeks." Ventus doesn't think he can process this information because he can hear the words and he can see his mouth moves but now they just don't make any sense. He can't remember any of this. He can't... "You woke up from your coma five days ago, but with the pain medicine and the damage, you've been in and out of consciousness."

The stress of it all hits Ventus at one time and he feels everything hurt at once. His eyes are wide and wild and he doesn't think he is breathing and with his free hand, he tries to pull out some cords because this just doesn't make sense. He's trying to move but he has no strength and he just knows this is a joke and wants to get up and walk away because God is punishing him for being an asshole. He gets it, he gets it. He wants to laugh. Because he gets it; jokes over. Get him out of here! But all of a sudden, there's a pinprick and he finally sees a nurse beside him. A male nurse. Who's big and strong and holding him down. His eyes are gray and dark as Ventus feels his mouth open and his head drop back and a cold wash flow over him.

And suddenly, there are colors, everywhere, bright under his eyelids and explosions and cold. Lots of cold. And it's a bit euphoric and he feels like there's yellow washed around him. Bright yellow emitting from his pores.

Vanitas is there again, but it's different this time. He's next to him, flying with him on this cosmic high. And there are no tight faces or fierce eyes. Just shadows under his eyes and a warm feeling in his unbroken hand because Vanitas is holding it. And... He feels like he did when they were still together and his heart could explode and he didn't feel small or pushed down or trapped up tight in a shrinking box.

He feels Vanitas squeeze his hand and everything gets real. All these emotions are bubbling to the surface, the ones he doesn't think about and keeps quelled with booze and coding. But his subconscious is fucking with him and finally breaking free and the yellow is turning dark and murky and he claws harder onto Vanitas. Because he misses him. So fucking much. So much that he doesn't care if it's the drugs that makes him see/hallucinate/dream these things, but he wants it. He wants all he can get because otherwise...he'll never have this again. He thinks he feels wetness on his cheek, but everything is cold again.

He wakes up again and Aqua and Terra are there. Things are less blurry then they have been. He's still not too sure what's happened, but he must be healing.

"Hey buddy," Terra smiles, too wide, too fake which makes Ventus want to scoff: this isn't a fucking Disney movie. Aqua is beside him, looking a little haggard and exhausted which is probably a more natural reaction to having to deal with the blonde. "Hey Ven."

They have food with them, stale-tasting hospital food of course, and he's not really hungry, but he knows that he should probably eat. So he lets them help him up to a sitting position, his breath catching when he accidently hits his leg. He then realizes that his leg is in a cast and he gets frustrated.

"Its okay, Ventus. You're healing. You'll be out in no time," Aqua says with a smile and hands him a piece of torn buttered roll.

He chews the roll until its soft mush in his mouth and swallows. He has this hatred for himself blooming in his stomach. He is growing angry and he doesn't know why.

"What happened?" he blurts out, ignoring the food that Aqua is handing him. "I don't understand why I'm here and I just..."

There's a _beep beep beep beep_ and it's getting faster and Terra puts his hand on his arm. "Dude, it's cool. We'll tell you, but you're about to blow up," and he nods to a monitor that's checking his blood pressure. The blonde rolls his eyes and tries to calm himself. He looks around and notices the shit artwork.

He really hates that stupid fucking picture of that sailboat. It's pointless and mundane and...

"You were drunk, they said," Aqua starts and Ventus immediately goes through his memories. They all blend into drunken strands of time. "And you were, uh, crossing the street and a car hit you." He can't remember this at all. It's more like a story he once read and it never really mattered. There was a character, he got hit by a car, and now Ventus is somehow here instead. He wonders if he screamed or just stared into the head lights. Shaking his head to forcibly clear it, he looks at Aqua.

"How's the company?" like it just occurred to him and it did. It's not like he has amnesia, but his thoughts aren't right and it takes a while to remember things or get things straight or something. Like he forgot his mother's middle name earlier. He's not too sure why he thought about it but it seemed really important at the time. He got distracted about wondering if Vanitas would remember her middle name and then he remembered Vanitas' mother's middle name and then Ventus hated himself a bit more and then it came to him- Allison.

"There we go. Our boy's back." And Terra's smiling and rubbing Ventus's hair like he's a dog.

Aqua steps in quickly-"It's good. No crashes since you've been... incapacitated. People have been worried, but they're glad to know you're getting better."

A nurse comes in and looks pleased that Ventus' awake and coherent. "Drug time!" she smiles and watches to make sure he swallows them down. Ventus isn't dumb. He wants the oblivion because he can't think right now.

"Don't worry," she says as she takes the water cup from him. "Your brain is still recovering from the hit. So it's going to take some time before everything's settled." She smiled and he wonders how she could tell his frustration. Ventus has always been quick. He's always been able to think analytically and separately. But the world is jumbled right now.

"I think it'd be best if you guys left. Give your friend some time to rest and heal."

They tell him that they'll be back soon and Terra makes promises of some red vines that he knows he can't keep because Aqua is giving him a tight look. Ventus can't help but think he's missing something. But thankfully, the drugs kick in soon and he doesn't have to worry about that anymore.

Vanitas is there again and he's drinking something out of a tall, black bottle with a straw that makes obnoxious sound when drank out of. He hasn't been very nice lately. The things he said has burned and incinerated and when Ventus wakes up he feels even more constricted.

He's taunting him now: "This would all make sense if you could remember."

They're in a bar, something shitty with bad lighting and the smells of booze so intense that Ventus needs to breathe through his mouth so he doesn't get sick. He frequented these in college, well, they did. But now Vanitas is sitting on the bar, his legs crossed and empty glasses surrounding him. The dynamics are different.

"Want some?" he asks Ventus and offers him whatever is in the bottle. Ventus reaches in, because he doesn't really have a choice and hasn't had since it all started, and before he puts the straw in his mouth, he feels something dripping down his wrist.

It's blood. The infinity sign.

There's a cruel laugh, making Ventus' stomach turn and flip viciously, violently.

"Remember now?"

* * *

Beeping wakes him up and nurses are rushing in and they're a bit frantic. The energy in the room pulses and Ventus swears he can see it. Every molecule, silver and static. Everyone's blurs again, fuzzy and round. Nothing sharp. Not like the sharp pain in his chest.

He looks down and sees red and realizes that he must have pulled out his IV. It's messy and too bright against his gown, even though it's night because everything is dark and he's starting to feel hot.

A nurse is able to thrust a trash can in his face before he vomits. The liquid is hot and scorching his throat and mouth and it dribbles down his nose and his eyes water as he coughs.

"We promised to be together forever," he whispers. "For infinity." Because he now remembers.

Everyone is swirling again and he feels a pressure against his forehead. It's steady and cool and calming.

He dreams of waves, crashing turbulent on the beach. There's a storm and it's lighting up the night sky so vividly that even though Ventus can tell it's a dream, it frightens him. He tries to count between the strikes of lightning, but gets tangled up in the freezing water instead. It feels so real that he can smell the ocean air saturating his lungs.

* * *

**[3]**

Time has no meaning for him anymore. It's light and dark, and light and dark, but mainly just dark and filled with his subconscious. It's easier that way. He knows he should be conscious, especially when he knows there are people there. Aqua stopped by and left flowers; they smell too sweet. Terra came by a few more times without Aqua. There are others. He can mostly feel them, not differentiate them from the masses in his head. But it's easier to just ignore and bask in the fuzziness. He's starting to appreciate the warm, aloof blanket that coats his brain and lets him dream of blackness.

It's like he settled into this depression and decided to make it his home and now there are just walls of drugs instead of bricks that used to be there and he's okay with that. Because there is no wolf in this story to blow anything down.

He doesn't know why he's still here, why they are still keeping him. The doctors cluck when they see his charts and the nurses sigh when they change his bandages. His body doesn't thump as much as it did before and he kind of just wants to be home, lost in his own sheets because he has black out curtains and he just wants complete darkness. There is nothing alive in him anymore that desires sun or vitamin d or the sight of life. He just wants bleak things, everything gray and black and dark and cold. Cold has always been inviting to him and now it's just pleading his name.

Maybe it's the depression.

Maybe it's the drugs.

But maybe Vanitas' blood is soaking through his body and killing him slowly, making everything dead from the inside out. Maybe the doctors know that and they just don't know how to break it to him.

He feels warm again and he's in that in-between stage. It's dark. No bright colors floating this time, and he hears a low voice and realizes that it's coming from the body lying beside him.

"You have to fight, Ventus," and it's Vanitas. And he smells like fabric softener and seashells at a cold beach and home. "I don't know... why you... but you have to be strong."

He's lying on his side, curled up around Ventus' form and he fits so perfect that there's a space all of a sudden in his chest that just... combusts or implodes or something. There's something different about this, but he doesn't have time to think (thank you, pills) because Vanitas wraps his hands around his one and plays with his fingertips. Everything is soft.

"You need to fight so you can get bett-"

Ventus can't shift his body, but he positions his face as much towards the raven as he can. "What's there to fight for?" And it's just so simple to Ventus. Why doesn't Vanitas see this? He's normally so good at seeing things like Ventus does. "You're here. Not there."

Vanitas brings Ventus' fingertips to his mouth and runs them across his lips. They are warm and moist. He looks so tired, more troubled then he ever remembers seeing him. Even during the aftermath of their breakup. Ventus doesn't like this.

His voice is thick and Ventus almost doesn't catch it: "What are you talking about?"

Ventus feels loopy again, swirly and blurred into the sheets. He feels like if someone were to look at him right now, there would be no separation between him or Vanitas or the sheets. They're all connected with the thread. No lines, just soft cloud-like curves.

"You're here," and he leads both of their hands to his own head and taps. "And right now, I'm here too. But when-when I'm not in here-when I'm out there and it's bright and sharp and real- you aren't-there. With me." His eyes are feeling heavy and he doesn't want the darkness to take him away again. He wants to make this clear because he's sorry and maybe Vanitas will stop saying such hurtful things if he makes it all clear. It's easier with drugs. Everything's always easier with drugs. "And I need you with me. Because I miss you. And I need you. I've always needed you and- Even if you aren't real and in my head and make me feel..."

"What? Makes you what?" Vanitas prods and nuzzles his face further into the mattress, interrupting Ventus' train of thought.

"You're always yelling and hating and I feel like you put me into boxes and boxes until I'm so small and everything will get lost because there's no labels... but then I get times like this and it's nice because it will never be like this again. I'll wake up and you'll be back half way across the world and I just- I can pretend. I can pretend that you are here. With me. Drugs can pretend..." Vanitas takes a deep breath and exhales slowly and Ventus finally notices that it's not his hands that are shaking. Ventus thinks he sees tears brimming in Vanitas' eyes and his teeth go to worry his bottom lip. "Don't cry. I don't think I said things right. You're never the one that cries now." And he's starting to go cold again.

"Ventus..." and he is whispering and he sounds like he's getting further away. But Ventus is trying so hard to keep this. To not go away. He never gets to control these things. "I'm real," and he takes Ventus' hand and puts it against his chest, firm and warm and he can't remember Vanitas touching him with such tenderness before. There's no contempt. It feels so real.

And then Vanitas put Ventus' hand, placing it on his shoulder as he rolls up his sleeve - all the while, whispering, "I'm real, I'm real, I promise, just..." and Ventus' hand is suddenly stroking the slick scar tissue and he feels like he's going to vomit because Vanitas' been cruel but he's never like this and it hurts worse.

Because this memory was always his and now dream!Vanitas stole it and is mocking it and-

"I'll be here. I promise," he hears Vanitas say, but all he can hear is this ringing in his ears as if he's stood up too fast and all the blood went somewhere. It's missing from where it should be.

"I've always been here. I promi-"

The world is pulsing again and he can't breathe and he wishes sometimes that Vanitas wouldn't hurt him where it really twinges and burns. His lips are moving, but Ventus can't read them and can't hear them because his eyes are fluttering and the ringing is getting louder and louder and it's deafening and shocking and he's so cold, but his hand, his hand is warm.

* * *

It's morning, the next day.

Terra is with him, but he doesn't care. Because once he sees the infinity sign that is forever imprinted on his wrist, everything is over. Things are slow and then things are fast. Way too fast. It's like his memory has finally came through the blockage, but the hole was so small, so everything is so forceful and strong that his heart skips a beat and his breath is caught somewhere deep in his chest. He remembers now and he grips the bed sheets and because it's all he has to hold on to.

He remembers going to the bar after he blew up at the office. And staying there until he couldn't remember his name anymore. But he still remembered the significance of the day. The pain. So he's not sure it helped at all. But the bartender stop's serving him because he's been there for hours and hours, so he needs to go to another one, to continue this binge and-

Ventus stops breathing.

He remembers.

"I remember."

He was on the sidewalk and he saw the cars coming, but he wanted to drink more. He remembers how cold he felt, even though he was in his warmest suit. He remembers standing at the cross walk and feeling the breeze of the cars roar past him. He was thinking about cars and how fast they were going and how much damage they could really infect his body if he just would walk right into it. It seemed so easy. They couldn't have been going more than 45, the speed limit being 35, but he thought it would be enough. He remembers calculating it, but the numbers were fuzzy and he just gives up. He can't remember how long he just stood there, dazed and drunk and numb and cold, so fucking cold, the edges of reality blurred a bit. He remembered the serenity and calmness that washed over him. Things were making sense in his head. This was right and okay and it was just so easy. An answer he never really knew the question for was being laid in front of him.

And then he just remembers bright lights and car horn blasting in his ear. The lights are just so bright and the noise so deafening and his drunkenness so deep that, well... that's it.

"Ventus, God, Fuck dude, are you okay? Ventus..." Terra's right next to him, eyes wide with concern. "You went really pale. I have a trash can if you need to vomit again."

Ventus's really glad that Terra's holding the trash can because he's not sure his shaky hands could have done it.

* * *

Things are... pale. There have been less and less colors lately. Things are still curves, loose and lucid, but he's getting good at seeing details. His temperature isn't fluctuating all the time. He's getting better at judging time, but not when he's _here_, wherever that's at. But he thinks the last time he saw Vanitas is less than a week ago. Because he knows the important facts and _that's _important.

He doesn't know if this is him getting better or worse. Because he feels worse. He feels like he's so far underwater sometimes that the pressure is so great that he'll just... compress and every bone will break and splinter and tear.

He wishes he could see Vanitas more. It used to be every couple hours and now it's less and less and less and pretty soon Ventus will be healed and there will be no more Vanitas and he'll be alone again. He doesn't like the feeling in his chest when he thinks about it. Because those boxes he's packed in? Well, the movers fucked up because even though they were clearly labeled _caution: fragile_and now everything is jumbled and askew and his good china's broken.

He had promised he was real, that he's been here the whole time.

Well, Ventus shouldn't let the surprise or the truth hurt him as much as it's doing.

His brain must be healing the damaged cells because he's starting to realize that the things he thinks and says doesn't make sense. They used to make sense and it wasn't like he's just started to think differently. He's starting to wonder if this damage might be permanent, whatever they were.

"You'll always be nothing, just fucked up," is Vanitas' vicious reply. And Ventus almost closes his eyes because this makes him happy, this messed up, twisted shit makes his heart twinge. He's not so much it's a good twinge or a bad one, but it feels all the same. But he doesn't want to have this feeling at his heart. He misses Vanitas so much, but he never wanted it to be like this.

"Vanitas-not, not...now."

Vanitas walks to him, in his fine expensive suit and his perfectly spiky hair. He looks exactly how he looked the day of the breakup. Ventus' heart stops a bit. This is not how he wants to remember his best friend, his _lover_. He wasn't lying when he wanted what they had to be forever. They were lovers once, and it worked – because if you were lovers in battle, you will fight harder to survive. But they were more often soul mates. Their bond transcended blood and always won over anything.

"And why not? You've been missing me, haven't you? But when I missed you – when I NEEDED YOU, you weren't there for me. I was always there, even if you didn't need me." he spits out, his teeth gritting.

Ventus nods, it's sad and he knows it. He's long accepted this fact. He always hears this repeat in his head.

"I always needed you. You never listened," Ventus is replying because he needs to have some sort of reply, some sort of ammunition. He wants Vanitas to stop. He wants to be alone. He doesn't want it to hurt anymore. "I needed you here; I need you now." He's not sure if he's crying because these times are different; this plain has a different feeling. But he feels as if he's sobbing. "I felt-I feel so alone."

There's less spinning then there used to be. But it sort of tilts and swings and it's a nice feeling, like he's at recess and the kids are pushing him on the swings. But he never had friends in grade school either.

"I didn't know," is the reply Ventus hears, but Vanitas's lips aren't moving.

The drugs, man, the drugs, is all Ventus can think. And he has this sudden feeling that that's it. There's such a finality that washes over the scene. Like he somehow knows what to do, even though...he doesn't. It's over and gone and done and he just wants to break down. Have some sort of cathartic release.

He'll just have to learn how to accept not having Vanitas in his life.

Without chemicals, because, look where it got him.

* * *

Ventus guesses he's in shock. Not so much in and out, just there and trying to understand things and put them into place when he's conscious. He likes making things work and fit, like code. He hasn't done any work in so long and while numbers still stream under his eyelids, it's all jumbled and never formatted correctly and fucked up. It frustrates him. Everything is so frustrating. Because these codes don't make sense and his memory doesn't make sense and his actions don't make sense. Everything is jumbled and the doctor says its okay, it's normal. Brain trauma does that. Life support does that. The pain pills do that. But it's not for him. Ventus has always been smart. Even when he was drinking. But he did just find out that he tried to commit suicide, drunkenly. Maybe things have been jumbled up for a while.

Suicide.

The words are so harsh in his head and while normal things are askew and dyslexic, these words are bright and vivid in the space where he closes his eyes. It flashes and reminds and panics him.

He...He's not really all that shocked that it happened. He never thought he would follow through. Never really wanted to do that. But there's something to be said about being a coward. About the easy way out. Sometimes he'd be shaving in the morning and stare at the four sharp blades and think how there are so many death instruments around. It would be an out of body experience, staring at the blades and thinking about the blood pooling to the surface, but nothing really connecting or affecting him. That it had to deal with death. It makes sense in his head, but he guesses that doesn't mean much anymore.

But things are a whole lot different on this side of things.

"Did you know?" he asks Terra because he's here. He called Aqua, too this time, for backup.

"The guy in the car... he told us his side of the story," Aqua speaks up. She's sitting at the end of Ventus' bed and the weight shift feels awkward. "That you walked right into-" She pauses again. "That he tried to-". A deep breath. Her hand goes to Ventus' leg. "We... We didn't want to believe it, Ven. We never thought...There were signs, but..."

The air is tense and no one says anything because what can you say right now? Nothing will suffice. Ventus got drunk and walked into traffic. _There._His terms.

Ventus just closes his eyes and when he opens them a few seconds later, he sees Terra's hand on Aqua's shoulder.

"We're just happy you're alive," Terra finishes and his smile is lopsided this time.

Ventus doesn't know where he fits into that sentence. He's not too sure he's including himself in that _we_.  
He doesn't say anything for the rest of the day. They leave, eventually.

He doesn't want to be alone. But he doesn't want them.

* * *

**[4]**

Vanitas is curled up against him, again. Ventus can feel his weight spread evenly throughout the mattress and it comforts him and makes him feel a bit safer.

But then he realizes that he's shaking a bit, trembling, and sad. Ventus doesn't know if he can handle this. This is where his social skills become null and void and he says the wrong things. Even if it's just dream!Vanitas, or subconscious!Vanitas or whatever the fuck you want to call him... He's just not good at this.

"I didn't want to believe it," Vanitas says, his voice cracking. "I thought he was just... covering his own ass. In the back of my head, I thought maybe, but I knew it wasn't..."

Ventus' thumb brushes the tears off Vanitas' damp cheek. He tries not to be embarrassed by his calloused fingertips because Vanitas is soft and smooth; he is not. He is harsh and angular and straightforward and always saying the wrong things.

"It's not your fault," because, it's not. It's Ventus' fault because he let Vanitas leave him. He could have just talked to him, talked it through, and held his hand and they could have talked things through. He could have tried harder. He could have fucking done something. Retrospect is a bitch. Because it was never about what others thought of them. It was about things that they never said to each other but could have and should have.

"You could be dead right now," Vanitas whispers, "and you never would have known that I- because I've been too scared and angry and..."

Ventus is confused and tries to get himself up on his side so he can face Vanitas. His hand grabs whatever he can freely latch onto and he tries to make things make sense. Things aren't making sense and this time it isn't him. Vanitas smells stale, like recycled air, and when he talks, there's a hint of whiskey there that Ventus wants to lick and suck from his teeth.

"Known what, Van?" and Ventus' arms are around Vanitas, and it's weird because usually Vanitas would push away the physical contact.

But he never answers his question. He's just leaning into Ventus' touch and trying to calm himself down. His body is no longer racking from sobs, but there are after effects and Ventus doesn't want to say the wrong thing and spoil the moment. So they just stay there, so intimately together. It's really amazing what the mind can create, but Ventus doesn't want to think of it like that. Instead he just matches his breath to Vanitas's; it's calming.

They are like this for what seems like hours, but Ventus can never be sure anymore when he's like this, wherever he's at. He feels himself being sucked back into the place he goes when he's not dreaming and he's not awake, but Vanitas stops him.

"Why'd you do it, Ven? Why'd you walk out in front of that car?"

Ventus wonders. He's not sure how he's going to answer that. There are a few answers, some more obvious and some more hurtful than others. "I was drunk," and he hopes that covers it all and sums it up.

"I get that's what got you the nerve to do it, but _why_? For how long?"

Vanitas doesn't need to continue his statement because Ventus gets this. He doesn't know why, probably the drugs and the brain damage, but he understands this.

"I-I've-I haven't been good for a while," he starts, truth comes easily with Vanitas, always has. The drugs don't hurt either. "I thought it'd get better after the depositions, but-but it didn't. It was just easier to code and not think about you and this hole you left in me..." Vanitas strangely has tears in his eye. Uncharacteristic. There's a pause. "Sometimes I-I would be driving and I would think that would be so easy to just cross the line and go into oncoming traffic. Or I'd be shaving and all it would take is a forceful and well placed... It just-It seemed so easy and that shocked me-" Ventus' voice is shaking and Vanitas is playing with the tips of Ventus' fingers. It's the subtle gesture of _go on_. "But then it was-a year, a year of not _us _and you were...still not here. It was destroying."

There was another pause and Ventus can feel his pupils expand. All of a sudden Ventus looks up at Vanitas and catches his eyes. "Remember our promise? How if we ever betrayed each other the blood was supposed to kill us?" There's a sheepish nod and there's this odd twisted smirk on Ventus' face. His voice is different now. He feels different now. "I think I was just waiting, really, for the punishment... for karma's consequences."

Now Ventus has tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and he feels so broken. Things aren't pushed down anymore; he still feels small, but everything is scrambled like fucked up binary or a lobotomy. So they're both holding on to each other like it's all they have left, and maybe, maybe that's true, Ventus thinks.

They're silent again and just together and that's enough. For right now. Ventus can listen to Vanitas breathe and it does things to his chest again that he can't form into words. He thinks he might have read about it somewhere, once, in a book maybe or perhaps on a blog. "I want you to be here always," Ventus whispers after he thinks Vanitas is asleep, but he doesn't notice the change in his breathing patterns. _"I know as soon as I leave, then you'll never be back." He chews on his bottom lip. "Don't make me choose between sanity and you."_

And his voice is so quiet and he feels so broken and unfixable and raw.

"Because I might just pick you."

* * *

Even after the weeks of these medications, for pain and whatever else, he's never had that hangover drugged feeling. But he feels it now as he can't open his eyes because everything is dry and his head is pounding and he's so damn lethargic. His arm itches beneath his cast and it somehow turns into a throbbing in his head. He can feel the veins pulse and pump his blood and it's a bit too humanizing for him this morning.

He guesses that's what happens when you realize that you tried to kill yourself and you survived.

It's then when he realizes that Vanitas is still sleeping next to him. So he must not be coming off the pills, but deep into them. Whatever. He doesn't question shit anymore. Because, really? It's not worth it.

His stomach rumbles and, hey, that's weird because that never really happens. But maybe it's because Vanitas's here and his body is conditioned to be hungry around him. He can't remember the last time he ate something, besides a few bites of that disgusting roll. He knows he's already lost a bit too much weight he couldn't really afford since the deposition. He's not so sure the exact weight, probably 10 pounds or so, because it's hard to be specific with sweatpants sizes. He wonders if he's lost even more because his body does feel more boney; there's more pain at certain angles.

There is some tray of food and as he uncovers it, although completely unappealing, his stomach grumbles again. He picks out the jello and he smiles because he remembers this is Vanitas' favorite flavor: red.

A nurse comes in and tisks at Vanitas sleeping next to him, but doesn't do anything to wake him up. Instead he just takes Ventus' vital signs and hands him his next dose of medicine in those little white cups. There are about four small colorful pills in there.

Huh.

And then all of a sudden Terra and Aqua are in the room and the noise wakes Vanitas up and he's quickly out of the bed because, well, Ventus is not too sure why. And they're all looking at each other and the room starts to feel tense and tight and it's closing in real fast and Ventus never remembers things happening like this in his hallucinations.

"Your medicine, Mr. Dennings," and he needs something to take it with and all of a sudden Vanitas is passing him a plastic cup of water. Their fingers accidently touch and Ventus pulls away, the cup of water falling on his gown.

It's really cold and really wet and feels really really really really real.

Ventus's starting to get frantic and nothing's making sense anymore because he shouldn't be seeing him when he's not on his pills and there's so many people in this room that he can't just _imagine_and he actually ate some jello and nothings ever been this solid before.

"Is this—Real? What's...What?" And he can't breathe and Vanitas seems to understand and tries to intertwine his fingers for support.

He thinks he starts shaking first, but he's not sure because he doesn't understand and **what is real life**. What does that even mean anyway? Real life. _R.E.A.L. L.I.F.E._He thinks he just keeps repeating that because he doesn't understand and he doesn't want anyone to touch him and he's trying to rip out his IV again because maybe he's not even really in the hospital. Maybe it's all in his brain. He hears people trying to calm him down and the nurse pressing a button and he just forces the base of his palms into his eyes and he enjoys the stars and spots he sees but they scare him at the same time. He can't breathe again and then he sees that male nurse and he remembers him and his eyes. There seems to be about five different people trying to hold him down right now, but some could just be doubles because that cold blue sedative is thickly pulsing through his red blood.

He looks up suddenly, catching Vanitas' eyes, trying to push back the drugs. Things might have clicked. Thing might have made sense. "You've always been here," Ventus says as they watch the drugs take effect and everyone looks at Vanitas as if he has the answers to everything.

He knows he should wake up, but he doesn't want to. He's...He's scared, he thinks. Or nervous. Or something. He can't really differentiate these emotions. They all blob together, but there's this pressure of feeling; it's negative, it's daunting. Once you shift out of unconsciousness, you start to pick up the tension and it's a bit painful. It's like there's an giraffe or elephant or whatever in the room and he's riding it or something. He's pretty sure they all know he's awake, too, especially if the hushed tones of Aqua and Terra tell him anything.

But he is so confused. Things aren't making sense.

Vanitas doesn't come to him during his sedation. All he saw were beautiful colors, swirls and swirls, and then blackness. It was very dark. Too dark. It was suffocating.

So Ventus is a bit confused because all of it couldn't be real. There _was_that one time Vanitas was a blue doll with freakish red eyes and he's just going to draw the line right fucking there. The damage couldn't have been that bad to his head. Either way he's pretty sure therapy is something the doctor will suggest once-if he ever-gets out.

It makes him wonder why he ever hallucinated about Vanitas in the first place. Well, okay, not _really_because he's always missed Vanitas and it makes sense. In a world where these things happen. It makes sense. Somewhere. He's sure. Because it's always been Vanitas.

_It always has been and always will be._

He opens his eyes slowly just to make sure he's not actually in his office right now, drool on his keyboard. He keeps expecting this to all be a dream. Or a nightmare. But here he is, surrounded by machines that beep and a tiny tv and these blinding white walls. Terra, Aqua, and Vanitas are the only ones in the room. No doctors. No nurses. there isn't a sigh of relief when he realizes this.

"Hi," and it's quiet and he feels like he has to say it to break the ice, even though he's not that person. It seems loud to him, the noise reverberating off the four walls. Vanitas takes the greeting personally and sits down at the end of his bed. The added weight shift isn't as uncomfortable as it is not. "Hey."

Ventus doesn't see Terra and Aqua exchange a look, but they leave with a quick, "BRB," and Ventus literally cringes and rolls his eyes because no one's ever allowed to speak like that around them. It's in their contracts.

Minutes go by, Vanitas just looking at him like he's the goddamn sun, but perhaps the sun is about to combust and Ventus can't do anything but try to avoid his gaze. He feels so guilty about it.

"I told you I was real," Vanitas says and leans forward to grab Ventus' hand. It's warmer than he ever remembers it being and it quickly transfers and travels up his arm and through his entire body.

"You were in my head," Ventus says because he needs this to all make sense. He's always been good at puzzles, but there's too many pieces missing from this one and he hates needing help. "I thought you up." This gets another squeeze from Vanitas' hand and his stomach is doing weird things. It's probably the hunger.

Why is he so bad at this?

"The doctor... I-I told him about-and he said that with brain trauma, the brain does funny things while it's trying to heal. That it's not uncommon for hallucinations or loss of vision or confusion."

"Why are you here?" Ventus questions and he can't tell if it came out harsh or pitiful. Because it hurts to hear the damage he's inflected and it's been too long since they've seen each other and longer since they've exchanged kind words. Because the last he knew, Vanitas wouldn't look him in the eye. Because the last time he saw Vanitas, he acted like Ventus was nothing. "Why?"

There's a quick pause and Vanitas laces his fingers through Ventus'. And it's like, it's like he missed something. Like somewhere during this ordeal, they became something different. Something more. Maybe it's just the drugs or the trauma, but Vanitas' hand feels different in his. There's something soft there. Something new. His breathing comes a bit shaky and he tries to barricade these feelings that he wants to perform.

"They called me when it happened," he starts and there's a lot of emotion in his voice and Ventus doesn't really know what that _means_, but it's a bit painful for Ventus to hear . "I'm still your emergency contact and they told me what happened and it was nine in the morning and I... I didn't know what to do. You were already on life support and...I didn't know what to do. You can't plan for these things, expect them."

Ventus doesn't like the pain on Vanitas' face and, again, it's because of him and he doesn't know what to do so he squeezes his hand to remind him that he's here and he's okay. With a quick upturn of his lips, Vanitas brings Ventus' hand to his face and just nuzzles them against his skin. It feels so real and simple. Vanitas seems content with the contact, the reassurance of it all. Ventus would be lying if he said he wasn't too.

"Anyway, I got here as soon as I could. Aqua and Terra weren't-they weren't sure about me being here. So I just snuck in when they couldn't be here. The night nurses let me." There's a thoughtful pause. "Those two were so worried. It never really occurred to me that...you weren't ever okay. Because every time I saw them, they told me you were fine. Before all of this, I mean. So to me, it just was so out of the blue and separate. But they saw it all pieced together in a whole."

Ventus isn't so sure if he understands that, but he'll take it all the same. How could he expect to be doing well without Vanitas? He had accepted long ago that he was half of who he was without him. That there was always something wrong, something askew, and out of place. He thought Vanitas knew that. How could have Vanitas had it so wrong? He never lied when he said he needed him; he always did.

"When I saw you, Ventus, you looked so fragile and small. I never realized how much I missed you, how much I-"

"Miss_ed_?" Ventus interrupts once he notices the tense and his hands go a little slack around his counterparts. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this isn't what he was thinking. Maybe things weren't different and this is just a sympathy thing. That Vanitas felt bad, a bit guilty, but that's it. Maybe he should get the nurse back in with some drugs...

Vanitas' shaking his head and its then that Ventus realizes that he has to be as tired as he is. That it's not just Ventus that needs healing, "Missed. Because you're here now. And I'm here now. And you need me." Like it's obvious. Because it always should be.

A sudden burst of something blossoms in Ventus's chest, like the drugs but more natural, and it's a bit painful to breathe and think and even look at Vanitas. And there's this gurgle of words that he doesn't even think about, but he just lets explode from his body because things still aren't lucid and because these feelings are too intense and Vanitas' hand is so, so warm and it's all that really matters right now.

"I love you."

This is where Ventus fails at communicating or saying the wrong thing or over communicating because there's this look in Vanitas' eye and this probably wasn't what he wanted to hear. Or the right time. Or something. So he's trying to back track, words foreign and backwards in his mouth. But before Ventus can say anything, a mouth is on top of his and a small peck of a kiss is being placed on his lips and it's from Vanitas.

_Vanitas…_

"I love you too, Ventus." He kisses him again. Not so sure this time. It's hesitant and soft and gentle. And Ventus feels like he could cry or vomit or do both at the same time if that was possible. "I always have."

They don't say anything for a while. All that they can hear is medical beeps and the hurried footsteps of medical staff. Ventus has crawled into the crook of Vanitas who sighed and placed his head on Ventus' shoulder.

The day goes on, but nothing of much importance is said because Ventus wants this to be it. He doesn't want to spoil it or make it go away or realize this is just a dream. Vanitas tells him of his life and his recent nightmares and his cat named Thumper and the times he's tried to contact Ventus, but chickened out and cleaned his house instead and how immaculate it is. It feels good to finally listen to something and to lose himself in it, sober and real. Hopefully real. Please, Ventus feels himself praying, let it be real.

While they are sharing a horrible lunch of baked chicken and something resembling green beans, the doctor comes in, spewing good news. Ventus can be released in a few days, as soon as they take him off some drugs and gets a schedule of rehabilitation worked out. His bones are healing and set up to heal properly; his brain activity is back to normal, but the doctor assures him that he it might be a while before things are truly lucid. Comas and brain traumas do that, who knew? There's a side jolt from Vanitas once he realized he said it aloud. The doctor continues on and suggests, along with mandatory psychologist, that he give up on drinking for a while and to eat better. Vanitas gives him a hard look when the doctor says something about how he would have healed faster, survived better if his immune system wasn't lacking so from his poor diet.

The doctor, Dr. Eraqus is his name, says that there will be more information to come, when time gets closer and for Ventus to just get as much rest for the time being, so he can heal. Vanitas thanks him, and Dr. Eraqus leaves.

"Thank god, you'll be okay." Vanitas gives him a rare smile. And Ventus feels like crying because it's been too long, so long, and he wants this until he's long past just carbon. His eyes are only clear for a second, before they're clouded over, thinking. "We'll have to start looking for a qualified nurse to come in... oh and for the rehabilitation too, of course. We'll probably need to handicap-proof your house too. You know, with one of those special shower heads and, oh, I'll have to go back to Japan sometime to get some more stuff. I didn't bring much else than this suit... I wonder if my assistant will-" Ventus looks at him expectantly, breaking his thought process. "Yes, Ven?"

"You're staying?" He hates how small his voice sounds, but there's no point in not being transparent now. Not after everything. He's pretty sure that's how he lost Vanitas in the first place.

Vanitas never looked less phased. "Of course. We've discussed this. You need me and I'm here." He cups Ventus' cheek and his hand is so warm and _real_against his skin. His thumb rubs circles under his jaw. "Besides, who else would take such good care of you? Terra and Aqua have let you exist on cheap Chinese take-out for a whole year! I can't believe you're 'friends' didn't take good care of you."

Ventus gives a stupid grin as he lets Vanitas continue on, prescribing what sounds like pure hell. But he's missed this, missed Vanitas, missed someone-no, missed _Vanitas_taking care of him. So he'll let the raven worry over him and indulge themselves a bit because it's not like Ventus can say he's a grown man and capable of taking care of himself. Because look where taking care of himself got him. Before he knows it, he's drifting into a restful daze, his eyes shut, but a smile on his face. He feels a slight kiss on his cheek and a soft puff of a sigh against his skin.

Tomorrow he'll have to show just how glad he is to have Vanitas back into his life. To tell him that things are going to be different or something. Maybe not different, but maybe more. He has a lot of time to make up for. But, tomorrow though, because right now this is nice, and because now there is an infinite amount of tomorrow's to have.

* * *

**[5]**

It's nowhere near over because there's deeper wounds that need healing, physically and not, but this just feels right. Sometimes Ventus gets frustrated over still being in this stupid goddamn casts and there's yelling and Vanitas yells right back and there's times that they don't speak to each other, but he never leaves. That's important. And sometimes Ventus gets upset because Vanitas just isn't appreciating what all he's having to give up, until Vanitas does something so unbelievably Vanitas, like making a Facebook group titled "How many people think Ventus is the best thing to happen to Vanitas?" and there was so much likes that Ventus almost choked on his drink seeing it and then they're all good again because they just _have_to be.

Aqua freaking out about an outage at work because Vanitas wanted Ventus to be home with him? It was worth it to the raven, but it was even more worth it to see the helpless smile that bubbled from Ventus's face. And Ventus is just so damn happy because Vanitas is back in his life and right now? Now, Ventus' a whole lot happier than he's been. It's been nearly six months since Ventus got out of the hospital and while everyone thinks the change is from his therapy and near death experience – Ventus knows better and he knows Vanitas does too. Now, now he's got things worth fighting for.

There's so much to fight for. He can't live without Vanitas again; he won't.

Remember those boxes that Ventus kept feeling he was being compressed and jammed into? Well it turns out Vanitas is really good at unpacking things, proof after Ventus asked him to move in with him, for good.

"Got you a present," Vanitas says as soon as Ventus is through the door. He just got back from work and while Ventus was looking a bit exhausted, he peaked up at the idea.

"Really?"

"Yup, come here and close your eyes."

Ventus smiles and skips over to him, slowly closing his eyes as he waits.

"Now open."

Ventus opens to see a box, the size of a toaster, wrapped in light green present paper with a darker green and obnoxiously tied bow on top. And whereas Ventus is usually more graceful and smooth, he rips the wrapping apart and grins maniacally, eyes blue and big, when he places the bow on top of Vanitas's head. "Beautiful," he comments and Vanitas rolls his eyes. Ventus opens the lid to see there's only two tiny things inside of it.

"Hmm?"

Ventus reaches in and when he pulls the small objects out of it, confusion is evident. But the second he glances at the items and _oh my god oh my god oh my god_ – He's rendered speechless and he swears he can't breathe. In the palm of his hand are two wedding rings: each ring is a single silver band but that isn't the reason he's hyperventilating.

On each ring, there is a tiny black infinity sign.

"Ventus…" Vanitas starts and when the raven looks into the blonde's blue eyes, they are misty and the blonde is trembling, "Will you... Will you marry –"

But Vanitas doesn't have time to finish speaking, because Ventus is on him, toppling him over until they're both sandwiched on the couch. And he's just kissing Vanitas frantically, clinging on to him.

"Yes, oh my god, a million times, yes. Dammit, of course, of course, I love you so much –"

Vanitas smiles, "Forever?"

The smile is infectious and Ventus smiles through happy tears, "For infinity."

_And in that moment, Ventus swears they are forever. For once, he's right._


End file.
